


To Tomorrow

by Ranowa



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Angel Maes Hughes, Chimera Roy Mustang, Gen, Human Experimentation, Past Torture, Solitary Confinement, cheesy and fluffy, despite all this it's happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 21:19:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14679708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranowa/pseuds/Ranowa
Summary: Maes is an incurable sap.Sometimes, when the screams of his past overwhelm him, that's just what Roy needs.





	To Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> From a monsters AU created by kyronsite and l-okaeri-l on tumblr! (I fucking give up trying to hyperlink that. Sorry.) I quite like it, so there may be a few more scattered oneshots in this verse in the future, but for now- here you go! Just a tiny, randomly fluffy thing... that I worked on instead of finishing yesterday's update, I'm sorry.....
> 
> Enjoy!

Roy’s old cell had been a five foot by five foot concrete box.

True, he hadn’t spent much time in there. They’d kept him in a different cage for actual experiments, a bigger one, an open one where he could reach out through the bars and see the scientists and attempt to do as he was told. And, well, that had been the whole _point_ of what had been done to him- they’d wanted to experiment on him in that cage, not throw him away in a dark closet and forget about him. When he thought of that place, he thought of that cage. That was where he’d been almost twenty four seven.

But sometimes, he’d misbehaved.

Sometimes, he’d tried to behave, but his powers had run so far out of his control he couldn’t.

Sometimes, the scientists were just mad at him.

Whatever the reason, _sometimes_ , they’d need to teach him a lesson- and so sometimes, the scientists would pull him back to their little punishment box, lock him in, and throw away the key.

This new village was nothing like that cell, however. Nothing at all. 

There was no cold, heavy slab of stone in between him and freedom, not even a locked doorknob for him to grab and yank at but just a tiny barred window, _just_ letting him glimpse a guard as the walked by. Here, all he had to was just stand up and walk outside. He didn’t even had to ask for permission, Maes said. He could just stand up and go.

It had taken him a while to actually understand and trust that. To interpret going outside as just _going outside,_ not anxiously waiting and trying to interpret fucking _everything_ around him into hidden commands that he had to meet or else. 

There was no waiting to be fed like a lab rat, one scrap of food pushed through the bars if he’d been bad and none at all if he’d been worse. He’d thought he had to wait for Maes or Gracia, at first, but Maes had kept encouraging him that he didn’t, and he’d finally tried it and- and that was different, too. He didn’t have to wait to be fed. If he was hungry, he could eat. He could ask for something without being punished. 

That had taken a long while to deal with, too. Sometimes, it really was just easier to go without anyway… as much as Maes stubbornly refused to get it, and accused him of being a moron- asking for something he wanted was such a nerve-wracking experience it was easier to just curl up and ignore it all.

There was no being burned, just to be burned. If his fires got out of control here, there was always cold, soft rags soon to follow, gentle hands pressing it against the burns; people trying to help him control them for his own sake rather than just theirs. It wasn’t anything like that tiny box, where if he’d kept breathing fire the scientists would press a button and freezing water would shower down on him from above, shower until he was soaked and shivering and he’d forgotten what it felt like to not be cold.

Sometimes it rained here. Sometimes it poured, constant, freezing, soaking sheets that drowned him.

Sometimes, Roy would stand outside in it and tilt his head up towards the sky. Not because the scientists had been right, and it made him safe, but because sometimes he just couldn’t stand having those memories, and all he could do to get them out of his mind was to feel that pain and terror all over again.

There was no fighting for space here, because the walls were so close around him there wasn’t even enough room for him to lay down. So close the shadows crushed him, and every step he took pulled him against one of the cold, bloody walls. There was no being forgotten about for days, left starving and shivering in the dark and so alone there were screams in his own head. There was no cowering in the corner, waiting through days upon days upon _days_ of perpetual dim-lit solitude, the scientists depriving him until he begged on his hands and knees to be let out, until he sobbed for the door to open again even though he knew the consequences, and he knew it meant they’d burn him for his disloyalty. 

There was none of that, here.

He had absolute freedom to go where he wanted, when he wanted. To do whatever he wanted, whenever he pleased. To be with whomever he wanted for however long he wished for. If he wanted to flop down in the grass outside and stare up at the sun and live off wild apples and Maes’ cold smoothies and stretch out in the biggest, softest bed imaginable- he could.

He had absolute freedom here. 

Roy sighed, folding his arms tightly to gaze up at the overcast sky.

He had absolute freedom, and still, some days, he felt so trapped it was like he was scratching at the walls.

He could pace around this damn wonderful, free, safe, rainy, grey, _tiny fucking village_ a hundred times, and it never felt any different than turning in tiny circles in his tiny concrete cell.

He wanted _out._ He wanted- he wanted-

Roy groaned, flopping over limply onto his back to land, spread-eagled, on the soft grass, staring blankly at the drifting clouds overhead.

He didn’t fucking know what he wanted. 

Roy lay there, and he listened to the village go about their day around him. No one bothered him. No one disturbed him. No one asked him what the hell he was doing, lying down in the middle of the day, no one came over to harass him to move or force him to get up and do something. They all just looked at him, smiled tolerantly, and let him be.

Absolute freedom.

His many still healing wounds complained and stung at his rough landing, scars burning and burns aching, and Roy simply sighed a third time, interlacing his fingers over bruised ribs and breathing with the pain, because it meant he was alive.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do anymore. 

Slowly, bit by bit, the dull sun traveled across the sky, muted rays glimmering through thick clouds. The blue faded to a mottled grey. The sounds of the village changed around him, the others shifting from their daily routines to heading inside for the oncoming night. The wind grew colder, pushing his dark hair over his eyes over and over until he shivered with it.

He still stared up at the sky, blinking dully, and shivering with every periodic urge to scream that stabbed straight through him.

At some point, there were pounding footsteps.

Hard, pounding footsteps that he’d learned to recognize anywhere, and he flinched with the instinct to run and hide and _cower_ in the same heartbeat as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Roy!”

He shuddered again, blocking out the itch of feeling trapped as best he could.

“Hey, Roy, there you are!” Pounding footsteps until they stopped just by his side, warm and reassuring and familiar, and he could almost see the other man’s smile. “Hey, Gracia wanted me to tell you dinner’s almost ready, if you want to eat with us tonight. It was- ahhh- w-well, it was something good, anyway, I’m sure of it! Not that _anything_ my wife makes isn’t good; she’s such an _angel,_ Roy- and she just wanted to me to remind you the invitation’s always open!”

Roy shivered, eyes squeezed shut, and said nothing.

Maes.

As usual.

Maes. As usual, giving him the choice without forcing it. Always ensuring he had all the freedom in the world.

Why wasn’t it enough? 

Why wasn’t it ever _enough?_

_Why haven’t you just gotten OVER THIS by now?!_

“Thanks,” he muttered, the word cold and inadequate after several seconds of dead silence, and turned sullenly onto his other side. 

There was another uncertain pause. Roy felt alternately sick with himself, sick for being so cruel to the only person here who’d cared for him, who’d protected him, been patient and _there,_ had _saved him…_ and yet, some other part of him cringed away anyway. Because no matter how good Maes had been to him, how he had _never_ done anything to earn it, despite it all- some part of him expected Maes to hear that cold, cruel response, and strike him. 

Again, quiet. 

“Well,” Maes said warmly, “dinner’s not for a while, anyway.” And then, without further ado, his one and only friend settled in the grass next to him, the breeze overhead ruffling with his wings. 

He didn’t say anything else.

Roy swallowed hard, anxiety, fear, anguish, guilt all collecting and clenching inside his chest. He let his eyes slit open now that Maes could not longer see them, staring down at the grass until his eyes burned, then just turned onto his stomach and buried his face in his arms. 

He had all the freedom here that he could ever have even dreamed of. Just a few months before this and he probably would’ve broken down into a relieved, desperate mess if he’d caught just a glimpse of this future; all this patience, and safety, and care, and love, and _freedom-_

But now, here he was, and he couldn’t even enjoy it.

_What a pathetic, stupid, broken monster._

_The scientists you’re right to throw you out and call you defective, you fool._

Maes didn’t say anything for a while, just sitting there next to him; the only reason Roy knew he was there at all was the sound of the wind ruffling through his wings. It was comforting and unsettling all at once; some minutes Roy wanted him there, some he just wanted to be alone. It felt like his mind was just at an unsettling blank, too dead and tired for him to even think or feel. He couldn’t do _anything_ but just lie there, cold and in a daze, like he’d felt too much and now just didn’t feel anything at all.

It was almost frightening.

Almost.

After a long silence, so long it felt like a lifetime, Maes spoke up again.

“I didn’t tell you what happened when Ed and Al babysat Elicia the other day, did I?”

It took Roy a few moments to work up the energy to shake his head. No, he hadn’t. And he didn’t fucking care.

But by the time he’d managed it, Maes was already telling the story.

The words floated over him like feathers, warm and ecstatic, already ranting about his daughter. Just what his little girl had done with those two young hellions, everything that had Roy had somehow missed despite the fact that Maes’ every waking moment was devoted to talking about Elicia. The words were so bright and excited, Roy could hear his warm, affectionate smile on his voice alone, that same infectious smile he always adopted at the very mention of his child, always chattering on with these stories that Roy had never understood but had grown to stubbornly enjoy…

It was so far removed and detached from everything Roy felt in that very moment it was impossible for him to grasp, but, somehow-

Somehow-

Roy just lay there and listened to Maes rant, laugh, and smile, and slowly, step by step, felt the world re-orient around himself back into something that he could handle. 

He didn’t know what to say so he just didn’t speak at all. Instead he simply stayed there, prone on his stomach with his head in his arms, feeling the grass brush against his cheek and his many wounds complain to the cold. His stomach was starting ache, too, softly complaining for hunger, and he almost wanted to laugh at that. Months ago he would’ve been grateful to the point of tears just to be fed once a day; now he was able to complain about something as small as a few hours between meals? It was ludicrous, wasn’t it? So ridiculous, so nonsensical…

Roy breathed in deeply, listening to Maes’ continuing rant and feeling the grass against his face.

No. It wasn’t ludicrous.

_You’re not there anymore. But you were there for long enough to still need to learn how to live again._

_And that’s okay._

Roy hesitated, still listening in on Maes’ steady steam of words. He wondered if all that talking had helped Maes invade his own head, because that little voice in the back of his mind that sometimes was all there was trying to keep him together was starting to sound more and more like the shit that moron said all of the time.

He had all the freedom in the world, yes- but all the support in the world, too.

He knew which one he needed more.

“Maes,” he sighed loudly into the ground, cutting the lunatic off at last. “I’ve heard this same story about your daughter a hundred times, and I fail to see how it’s any different with Ed and Al involved.” He frowned, tensing a little, then finally planted his hands against the ground to push himself up to a sitting position. His sore, exhausted, freezing muscles groaned, but Roy still somehow kept his face in a small, steady smirk even with his back turned to Maes, stretching on the ground. “I’ll never understand how you manage to keep any friends at all.”

Maes broke off, but only for a second; one moment he was surprised, and the next he was laughing uproariously, the hand on his back surprisingly gentle in tune with his rough voice. “Just as you’ll never understand the wonders of having a child until you’ve done it yourself, Roy!” The angel stood, reaching a hand down to help him up as well in the same offer of support that had been extended to him all this time. 

Roy heaved in a deep breath, glancing up through his hair at the long, pale fingers.

Then, without any further hesitation, he put his own scarred hand in Maes’ and allowed himself to be hauled up to this feet.

The beaming smile of an answer was as good as a reward as any other.

“So?” Maes prodded, once he was up and steady, moving to stand by his side. “How about it, Roy? Want to come over to our place for dinner? Only if you want to, of course, but…” he shrugged, offering a warm, hopeful smile. “We’ve got ice cream!” His wing curled warmly around him, like an arm around his shoulder, and Roy just couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Fine. _Fine_. I’ll come. Only if Gracia and Elicia are there, though.” Roy shot him a look out of the corner of his eye. “They’re the only ones that make you bearable.”

Maes laughed at him again, not bothering to answer him as they started moving along. For once, somehow, his friend shut up, just cheerily leading the way, and the silence was just as welcome as his chatter had been before it; as familiar and warm and reassuring, and for just a moment, Roy was able to taste something like peace.

“…Roy?” Maes ventured finally, their pace slowing down a little.

“Mm.”

Maes sighed, his wing curling closer around his side. “I know it’s hard sometimes, but… you’ll have bad days, I know, but- you’ll have good ones, too. All you can do is just keep your eyes open and believe you’ll get to a day that’s better. Because you will. Someday, it won’t be like this.”

“Did you know that you’re an incurable sap, Maes?”

Maes hmphed softly, feathers brushing gently against his side. “Yeah, and you’re just a grump seriously testing this sap’s patience,” he teased, tense enough to sound serious, but Roy knew him well enough at last to hear the smile underneath the words anyway. He smirked, resisting the urge to throw the strange wing-hug off, and tilted his head back to roll his eyes skyward.

All the freedom in the world was a terrifying thing, after more confinement than he’d been able to bear. 

He was finally starting to believe, however, that he’d do just fine.


End file.
